Chapter 6
Leni
Ilick my lips in anticipation, staring at those two words that have me all hot and bothered without even touching myself. I suck in a deep breath, my stomach clenching as I wait for his first directive. My core flutters, the cool air on my naked skin adding to the excitement.
@watch_me_watch_you: Do you like a little pain with your pleasure, little devil?
@daring_devil: Yes, sir.
@watch_me_watch_you: The first thing I would do if you were here with me is play with those pretty little jewels on your tits. I’d bite them with my teeth, then soothe them with my tongue.
With a soft moan, I twist my nipple piercing between my fingers until the sting of pain has me gasping, then release it and do the same to the other one.
It shoots lightning bolts of desire straight to my pulsing clit, so I do it again, rubbing my thighs together for friction. My fingers tremble as I type.
@daring_devil: Your mouth feels so good.
@watch_me_watch_you: Are you wet for me?
My body shudders as I tug on my piercing again.
@daring_devil: Yes, sir.
@watch_me_watch_you: Show me.
Dropping my free hand between my legs, I let them fall open, rubbing my swollen clit as I snap a photo and send it to him.
@watch_me_watch_you: That’s my girl. I want you to slide a finger inside that tight pussy for me. All the way in.
@daring_devil: Yes, sir.
I don’t know why I call him ‘sir’, but there’s something powerful about the way he tells me to do things, like a teacher. It’s a fucking turn-on. I mean, he’s around the age of the younger professors at Beckford University. Who’s to say he’s not one of them?
The thought has my walls clenching tightly around the single digit now pumping in and out of me as I rub my clit with my thumb.
I bite down on my lip, imagining my masked teacher bending me over the lectern in front of the class, twisting my hair in his hands to expose my neck before biting the tender skin.
My legs tremble and my breathing becomes laboured as my climax draws nearer. I’m so caught up in my fantasy, I almost miss the notification on my phone.
@watch_me_watch_you: Add a second finger. I want you nice and ready to take my cock, little devil.
I whimper as I slide in another. I’ve seen his cock—it’s impressive and a little intimidating. Feeling daring, I switch the camera app to video mode, riding my fingers and capturing the dirty noises as my fingers slide in and out of my wet cunt.
Curling my fingers, I finally hit my G-spot, gasping as I increase my ministrations on my clit. The indecent sounds filling the room cause my stomach to tighten right before I soar over the cliff, waves of pleasure shuddering through me as I ride out my orgasm.
After coming down, still languidly playing with my oversensitive core, I smile lazily as I rewatch the video, making sure my face is never in the frame, before sending it to him.
His response takes a couple of minutes, but I don’t panic. I’m heady with the satisfaction of knowing he’s watching what his words did to me. I am in control here.
His reply finally arrives in the form of a video.
I grin as his low masculine groan fills my room, and I rub slow circles around my clit, fingering myself again as I watch him come all over his toned and tatted stomach.
I replay it twice, bringing myself to another orgasm before pulling my fingers out and sticking them in my mouth to clean them.
There’s nothing I like more than cleaning up after myself, so I shoot him a close-up photo of my lips wrapped around my fingers.
@daring_devil: I wish I was there to help you clean up that mess you made, sir.
@watch_me_watch_you: Fuck. You’re killing me here, little devil.
I laugh at his reply, knowing exactly what I’m doing to him.
Most girls shy away from tasting themselves, but not me. I love it. Although it’s better when I’m licking it off a man’s tongue. The thought makes me wish I really was there with him. I’d ride his face, then clean up my mess as he fucks me into the next day.
Rolling over, I bury my head in my pillows, feeling a little bereft lying here naked and alone. I want his hands and tongue on my body for real, but I’m not sure he’s ready for that. He messaged me tonight ready to call it all off. I can’t imagine he’ll be willing to meet me at Euphoria.
Instead of making a needy fool of myself, I tamp down my impulse to beg him to meet me and send him a final cheeky message for the night.
@daring_devil: I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks
@watch_me_watch_you: Watch that smart mouth of yours, little devil.
@daring_devil: Or what?
@watch_me_watch_you: Or I’ll have to fill it with something to shut you up.
@daring_devil: Promises, promises.
@watch_me_watch_you: Get some sleep.
@daring_devil: Yes, sir.
Mum shouts to the twins to get ready for bed—shit, I didn’t hear her come home—and I scramble for my clothes, not wanting to risk anyone bursting in here to say good night and copping more than they bargain for.
Then I head into my ensuite to wash my hands and splash water on my flushed cheeks.
I can’t help the smile on my lips as I stare at my reflection.
There’s something about this man that’s super endearing.
I don’t feel like he’s using me to fulfil a fantasy like @mr_green.
He wasn’t at Euphoria with the sole intent of hooking up, and he’s adorably clueless about how this all works, but when it comes time to get down and dirty, he knows exactly what to say to get me going.
My infatuation with older men may have started because of my abandonment issues with my father, and as a way to take back my control after what happened with my first stepfather when I was younger, and then with Dylan, but there’s something about @watch_me_watch_you that makes me feel safe, even when he’s telling me the things he wants to do to my body.
There’s nothing predatory about him. He doesn’t make me call him daddy or tell me he wants to spank me.
Truth be told, I was uncomfortable with some of @mr_green’s demands. I’m glad he didn’t show up at the club the other week.
Collecting my yoga mat from beside my desk, I switch on some calming music and roll out my mat.
While I enjoy knowing I can drive a man wild just by seeking my own pleasure, I also need the peace and calm of grounding my body through yoga and reconnecting with myself.
Yoga has become more than just my daily practice—it’s a reclamation, my quiet rebellion, a way to understand what my mind, body, and soul need without validation from others.
My parents fucked me up by treating me like an afterthought, but I won’t let that define who I am. I will continue to build myself up and love who I am. No one can take that away from me.
Sitting up straight and finding my centre, I breathe through one of my yin yoga sessions, taking my time to hold my poses, accessing and stretching out my muscles. As I do, I clear my mind and prepare to reset for tomorrow.
I can’t help but smile when I wake to a message from my mystery man.
@watch_me_watch_you: Good morning, little devil. I just want to make sure you’re okay with what we did last night. It wasn’t my intention to take things that far when I messaged you, and I don’t want you thinking I’m some dirty creep who’s only using you to get off. That’s not who I am.
This man is way too adorable for his own good, and though it’s attractive, I’m not explicitly looking for a relationship.
Going to the club has been about regaining control over my body.
In fact, I’ve been more interested in exploring my own body than interacting with anyone.
The silver-masked man is the first person I’ve initiated anything with.
The two other men I have interacted with at the club approached me after seeing me in the voyeur hall.
They were both over confident daddy types who showered me with praise about what a good little girl I was while fucking my mouth or spanking my arse as they pounded into me from behind.
While it was fun at the time, I have to admit, it left me feeling bereft.
I’m not used to anyone checking in. The butterflies in my stomach are an odd sensation that I haven’t felt since early in my six-month relationship with Dylan—before he showed me what an arse he was.
@daring_devil: Well, aren’t you sweet. I’m fairly certain I was the one to initiate what happened last night, and I’m more than okay with the resulting orgasm.
@watch_me_watch_you: I’m trying to be a gentleman here…
@daring_devil: Well, kind sir, thank you for the orgasm
@watch_we_watch_you: You’re incorrigible.
@daring_devil: Your big words are a big turn on, sir.
@watch_me_watch_you: Can I ask you a serious question?
@daring_devil: You can ask, but I’m not promising to answer.
I bite my lip, my stomach swirling in anticipation as I watch the three dots dance across the screen for a few minutes, grinning as I imagine him agonising over every word.
He’s so cautious with everything we do, I just want to keep pushing him out of his comfort zone.
After all, that’s why I started going to my cousin’s club.
I was sick of thinking what Dylan did defined me. I wanted to prove to myself it didn’t.
@watch_me_watch_you: What’s a gorgeous woman like yourself doing entertaining an old man like me? I’m sure you would have your pick of guys your own age.
@daring_devil: Guys my age only care about themselves.
@watch_me_watch_you: I can’t really disagree with you there… but I’m old enough to be your father. I don’t want to get weird, but I’m sure he wouldn’t want you interacting with someone like me.
A pang of bitterness washes over me at the reminder of my absentee father who couldn’t give a fuck about me or what I do. I haven’t heard from him in ten years, I certainly don’t care what he thinks.
@daring_devil: He’d have to be in my life to care.
My stomach swoops when I press send. I don’t know why I told him that.
Nothing appears on my screen for a few minutes. I’m about to exit out of the app when the three dots finally appear.
@watch_me_watch_you: I’m sorry to hear that.
@daring_devil: I’m not. He doesn’t deserve someone as awesome as me.
@watch_me_watch_you: He certainly doesn’t.
@watch_me_watch_you: No one with any sense would walk away from you.
I don’t know why, but unease settles in my gut. When he messaged me last night, I got the feeling he was trying to scare me away by telling me about his ex-wife and son, and now I feel like he’s saying he doesn’t deserve me.
Swallowing my fear of abandonment, I carefully word my next response.
@daring_devil: I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with independent will.
@watch_me_watch_you: Look at you, quoting Jane Eyre.
My heart-rate kicks up a notch, a smile playing on my lips.
@daring_devil: You know Charlotte Bronte?
@watch_we_watch_you: I’m familiar with a few of the classics.
@daring_devil: What’s your favourite?
@watch_me_watch_you: I’d probably have to say A Tale of Two Cities.
@daring_devil: The opening line always gets me… “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The perfect metaphor for life.
@watch_me_watch_you: Exactly. History’s full of those messy moments.
@daring_devil: Are you interested in history?
@watch_me_watch_you: You could say that… but this is getting dangerously personal, little devil.
I release a heavy sigh. He’s right, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know more. I’m about to ask another question when my mother flings open the door to my bedroom.
“Your sisters are ready for school,” she says, running a critical eye over my ripped jeans and Beckford U hoodie.
“Yep, give me five.”
“They don’t want to be late.”
Then you take them, I snap in my head. Instead, I force a smile. “Got it.”
She hovers for a second longer before letting out a small huff and leaving without closing my door.
For fuck’s sake.
Groaning, I return my attention to my phone. He’s right; we were getting dangerously close to personal, but I’m starting to wonder if that’s a bad thing. There’s something about him that makes me want to get to know him on a deeper level. I haven’t felt that way since Dylan shattered my confidence.
Thoughts of my ex hit like a cold shower. Typing out my message, I decide to return to our flirty banter.
@daring_devil: I have to get my sisters to school. If you’re not a serial killer, you know where to find me if you want to continue having some fun.
Too scared to wait for his response in case he rejects me, I exit the app and toss my phone onto my bedside table. The ball is in his court now.